"We've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back. We get to come back. I know. We all can change". - Rick Grimes
Glenn's POV
The headlights faded into the darkness, the sound of the engine growing distant until there was nothing left but silence. Rick, Daryl, and Price were gone, heading for Atlanta. Heading to get Beth.
I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening on the strap of my rifle.
I glanced to my side, at Maggie. She was staring down the road, her eyes hopeful, the kind of hope I hadn't seen in a long time. Hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd see her sister again.
Price had given her that hope. And in a way, he'd given it to me too.
He'd said this was his repertoire, like he'd done things like this a hundred times before. And I believed him. The way he carried himself, the way he handled Terminus, the way he had every damn detail planned before they even set foot in that hospital—he wasn't just another survivor.
Back when he first joined us, he mentioned his SAS days. Counter-terrorism. Hostage rescue operations. Stuff that felt like a whole different world now. But if anyone could get in, grab Beth, and get out without leaving a trace, it was him.
Maggie whispered, her voice barely audible. "I miss her."
I swallowed hard, turning to her. "I know."
It was all I could say. All I could do was hold her close, hope, and wait.
I woke to shouting.
The sky was just starting to turn pale with morning light, but the urgency in Carl and Caleb's voices snapped me awake in an instant.
"They're coming! Walkers—dozens of them!"
I was on my feet before I even had time to think. Through the windows, I saw them—walkers, stumbling out from the trees, closing in from all sides and Carl with Caleb running away from them.
Shit.
Abraham was already outside, Michonne right behind him, cutting through the dead with her blade.
I turned to Maggie, gripping her arms. "Stay inside. Keep the others safe."
She nodded, though I could see the fear creeping into her face.
I grabbed my machete and turned to the others. "Darius, Rosita, Bob—take the backdoor. Don't let any of them through."
They nodded and moved fast. No time to hesitate.
I sprinted outside, the smell of rot hitting me like a wall. The first walker came at me, arms reaching, mouth snapping. I swung my machete, the blade cutting deep through its skull. It dropped, and I moved on to the next.
Then I saw it—a car, speeding down the road.
Rick.
The doors swung open before the tires had even stopped rolling.
Price was out first, already moving, already cutting walkers down like he was built for this. He was fast—too fast for a man his age. Each movement was precise, no wasted energy, no hesitation.
Rick was right behind him, making his way toward me.
Daryl stayed near the car, crossbow steady, keeping Noah and Beth covered while Noah honked the horn, slowly leading the horde away.
Rick reached me, breath heavy. "You good?"
Then a shout came from inside of the church.
"They got inside!" Tara's voice, coming from the church.
Shit.
Rick and I locked eyes for a half-second before he tells me to come with him, while Abraham and Michonne protects the front door.
The moment we stepped in, I saw them. Walkers had pushed through the back, clawing at the people inside.
Bob, Darius, Rosita, Izzy—they were holding them back, others are stabbing through gaps in the boarded-up windows, but they wouldn't hold forever.
Tyreese was near the front, shielding the kids, Carol by his side, her knife slick with blood.
Rick and I didn't waste a second.
I swung my machete, the blade burying itself in a walker's skull, wrenching it free just in time to block another. Rick's revolver barked, dropping two more, then he switched to his machete, hacking them down in close quarters.
Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, the church was silent.
No more walkers.
Just heavy breathing, the stink of blood, and bodies strewn across the floor.
We looked outside.
The plan had worked.
The majority of the horde was shambling away, drawn by the sound of the car's horn.
Rick exhaled, nodding. "It worked."
Now all that was left was finishing off the few stragglers.
The fight outside was nearly done. Only a handful of walkers remained.
I stepped out, wiping sweat from my forehead, watching as Price switch to his pistol finishing them off, then he place his gun back at his holster. His vest covered with walker blood and some of it are dripping from his beard, and the hat that he always wear missing.
He moves through them like he was tying up loose ends.
One walker turned, and he stabbed it clean through the temple. Another reached for him, and he spun, slicing through its neck like it was nothing.
At the distance, Daryl and a new guy that they probably brought with them are killing walkers or what's left of them
A few seconds later, it was over.
I let out a breath, my hands still gripping the machete, my arms burning.
We'd survived.
Again.
Price's POV
The last walker hit the ground with a wet thud, its body twitching for a second before going still. I let out a breath, muttered a quiet curse, and spat at the corpse. Filthy bastards.
I rolled my shoulders, wiping my knife clean before sliding it back into its sheath. The air stank of blood and rot, but the fight was over. For now.
I turned and made my way toward the others. The Asian lad—Glenn—was gripping his machete, still catching his breath. Abraham, his ginger hair streaked with blood, stood nearby, hands on his hips like he'd just finished a job well done. Michonne held her blade at her side, her face unreadable as ever.
Rick was there, too. Standing with Carl and Caleb, both kids looking shaken but steady. Tough lads.
I glanced up at the church tower and saw Sasha, her suppressed AR-15 still at the ready. She hadn't fired much—didn't need to. She'd been covering us, keeping the high ground locked down. Good girl.
Then I heard it.
"Maggie!"
Beth's voice, thick with emotion, cut through the morning air.
I turned and saw her sprinting toward the church, tears streaming down her face. Maggie ran to meet her, sobbing, and the two crashed into each other, holding on like they were afraid to let go.
Carol and Glenn stood nearby, both of them misty-eyed. Not a sight you saw often. Not in this world.
A moment of peace. A rare thing these days.
Daryl and Noah walked up beside me.
"You alright?" Daryl asked, wiping some blood off his arm.
I grunted. "Still standing."
A second later, Rick, Abraham, and Michonne joined us.
"We good?" Rick asked, his voice even.
I nodded. "Yeah. We're good."
For a while, nobody spoke. Just quiet, heavy breathing. Everyone was coming down from the fight, letting the adrenaline settle.
Two hours later, we gathered outside. Had to make sure everyone was alright first, get our heads straight. Then it was time to figure out our next move.
People started throwing out ideas, talking in circles. Rick stayed quiet, listening. Thinking. Then his eyes landed on me, Daryl, and Noah.
"We go to Shirewilt Estates," he said finally. "Richmond, Virginia. Noah's family's there."
Daryl asked "Are they good people?"
Noah straightened. "They're good people. I can vouch for them."
Abraham folded his arms. "Hell of a trip. We need transport."
"The church's short bus," Rick said. "You can fix it?"
Abraham smirked. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Glenn stepped forward. "I'll help."
That settled that.
I crossed my arms. "We'll need provisions. Food, medicine, water—you name it. And another car. We'll be safer moving in a convoy. Bus in the middle, cars at the front and back."
Rick nodded. "Alright. We split up. Some of us find supplies, the rest look for another ride."
No hesitation. No wasted words. Just a plan.
And then we moved.
It was now late afternoon, the sun already setting. We got what we needed.
Food, water, medicine—enough to last the trip. Gasoline for the bus, for the cars. Glenn and Abraham got the bus running, and the others found another vehicle to round out the convoy.
For the first time in a long while, we were prepared.
And yet, as I looked around at the others, I could still see it—the weight in their eyes, the exhaustion that never really went away. Even after a victory, it lingered.
That's what survival was now. A long, drawn-out war with no end in sight.
As the fire crackled and the night stretched on, people started talking. Not about walkers. Not about tomorrow. But about before.
The days before the world went to hell.
Abraham told some wild story from his army days, something about a bar fight in Texas. Maggie talked about growing up on Hershel's farm. Daryl just listened, his expression unreadable, but every now and then I caught the ghost of a smirk.
Even I spoke a little. Told them about my first deployment, how a couple of us got lost in the middle of the bloody desert because some officer thought he knew better than the map. Ended up navigating by the stars till morning.
Laughter was quiet, but it was real.
Felt strange.
Felt… normal.
Almost.
When the fire burned low, I stood up, stretching out the stiffness in my back.
"That's enough for one night," I said, my voice carrying just enough authority to make sure no one argued. "We leave at first light. Get some sleep while you can."
A few nods. A few murmured agreements.
I took one last look at the group, at the tired faces around me.
Then I turned to the darkness, rifle in hand, keeping watch.
Morning would come soon enough. And with it, the road ahead.